


Game Time, Play Time

by feistymuffin



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Stupid crap that I wrote in two hours with several distractions because of my dashboard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistymuffin/pseuds/feistymuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper's often cooped up in his nest a lot of the time during rounds. Needless to say, he notices a thing or two about his teammates. One of them has noticed him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Time, Play Time

When people think of camping, they imagine driving somewhere into the wilderness, hours and hours away from civilization to get away from make-and-break pressures of living day-to-day. They more than likely imagine roaring fires, roasting good food over a questionable-cleanliness grill and singing really bloody awful songs out of tune and genuinely making asses of themselves at the expense of making every single person laugh. What regular people think when they hear the term “camping” would be associated with a good time, withered slightly by bug bites and running out of water or toilet paper or both.

However, when Sniper’s rusted and dirt-washed mind thinks of camping, he pictures a piece of rubbish hole like the one that he’s situated in now, usually two hundred metres off the ground and up into the high heavens which broil as if the devil’s roasting his nuts right under his arse, or freeze like God put on the AC full-tilt.

There’s obviously ups and downs to any job, he’ll reason. Any poor sob’s got to have something he appreciates in his lot, and there’ll be a thing he really just can’t fuckin’ stand. Sniper, he can’t stand when Soldier gets way too far situated in his ass about every single battle strategy ever, which Sniper’s fairly certain no one but Heavy or perhaps Demo gives less than one shit about.

Sniper likes the perch, his bird’s nest, being able to see for miles and scope for about a third of it. He likes being able to maintain control of the situation, perform cover and offense, and necessary support where and when at all possible. All the while, being at a pleasantly kept away locale that keeps him out of the heat and completely able to keep his head crystal clear.

Except when that lithe little figure runs across his scope, his whole mind jars. Every single bloody time. He has to blink and refocus, re-aim, re-everything. Then he ends up searching for him anyways, when he should be providing cover fire for Pyro while the crazy bastard tries to rush the Red’s front line, which ends up working because Demo and Medic help him out while Sniper’s got both hands trying to find his own arse. Well, trying to find someone else’s entirely.

Scout is a runner, a blur most of the time and tauntingly supple distraction when he’s still enough to recognize as something other than a blue smudge on the terrain. Sniper’s eyes follow him, and when the battle is slow and he’s doing little else but shooting at his teammates’ feet to piss them (Soldier, mostly) off, Scout is stationary. He’s still moving, he’s usually never not moving, but it’s at a reasonable pace. He’s walking back and forth between the posts that hold up the fort, or playing with Spy’s butterfly knife, or actually hitting baseballs against a far wall of the opposing team's fort to piss them off. When it’s slow, and neither of them are fighting or shooting or running, Sniper watches him. He watches him like a hawk, and he pretends that it’s strategic. Sniper once had a conversation with Soldier about how important it was that the support and the offense have their shit in wraps, tighter than tight. It was embarrassing on more than one occasion when he couldn’t even strike up a conversation with Scout. But Christ in a handbasket, could he stare at his ass when he left the room.

Sniper takes a swig from his beer, using his binoculars to fix himself on Scout down below. He was playing with something in his hands, perched on a box near the back corner, detached from the others. He flicks his wrist, and the object in his hands vaults up into the air. Sniper barely catches a glimpse before he’s caught it and thrown it up again. He watches the movement, over and over, almost hypnotically.

Sighing hard though his nose, Sniper lowers his binoculars and pinches his nose. “Keep it together, old boy,” he mutters. “Bigger fish to barby than gettin’ your rocks off to some poor unknowing kid.” Taking another chug of beer helps to calm his nerves, if only for a moment. And not moments later, Soldier’s back on the wire, shouting in his ridiculously loud voice that things are picking up again, recess is over, ladies.

Sniper performs somewhat... shittily, for the last round. His shots are on-spot as usual, but his attention and upkeep for maintaining control are seriously lacking overall. Despite actively trying to avoid looking for Scout, he's there. Whenever he provides a shot, Scout seems to appear a second later, even if there’s no reason for him to be anywhere near there. Sniper’s more than happy when the final point is scored, for the other team. Soldier blows up through the comm. and rips everyone a proverbial new whole for “letting the commies kick our keisters right to the moon”. Engineer replies with a witty remark that ends up igniting a spat between the two Americans. Sniper sighs as he disconnects and starts to pack up his gear. 

Descending the ladder back to ground zero, Sniper lets his mind wander to particularly scandalous things. Things that he doesn’t let himself think about unless he’s alone, doing strenuous physical activity, or is really super alone. Things that involve one of his teammates doing some... stuff. To him. Under him. 

“Christ,” Sniper huffs, his feet planting onto the packed dirt. He shifts his satchel over his shoulder and nearly pisses his skivvies when a hand claps on his back. “Fucking—” He spins on his heel, his hands already closing into fists, when Scout’s cap catches his eyes and his breathing halts abruptly.

Scout stands before him, the top of his head coming up to Sniper’s nose. His grin lights him up, and Sniper’s chest flutters distractingly.

“What’s up?” Scout says, his Brooklyn accent a harsh contrast to the silence he’s used to. 

“Er,” Sniper replies. Wow. Suave. “Hey there.” He pauses before he notices that he was asked a question. “I was just... in me nest.” Wonderful. He now sounds like a bird. “You know how it is.”

Scout kicks his sneakered feet against the ground, tossing up dust. “Yeah, fight the fight and all that shit.” His hand fiddles with the hostler on his hip that holds his pistol. “So just now, were you all good? Up in your nest?”

“I... what’s that now?” Sniper balks. “Was I... Yeah, I’m fine. Tiptop.” He pauses again. “Pun not intended, I suppose.” Christ he is putting his foot so far down his throat, he might as well just swallow it and die.

Scout laughs, and it’s not terribly kind but it stirs Sniper’s skin all the same. “I just missed those eyes of yours on me, is all. Felt like something was up.”

Completely caught off guard, Sniper starts and actually recoils. Holy fucking jesus christ. He knew. He _noticed_. “Erm... I wasn’t...”

Nimble fingers slip an object from Scout’s pocket, twirling it between his hands before tossing it towards Sniper into the air. He only barely catches it, then opens his hand to examine it. It’s a ball, with paper covering it. You don’t need to see the ball to know it’s a baseball, just by the shape and weight. As he looks up, there’s that fine ass again, walking away. Scout glances over his shoulder once before turning forward and not looking back.

Overwhelmingly curious and apprehensive, Sniper unwraps the paper from the ball and unfolds it. 

_See you tonight. Bring booze._

_-Scout_

“Bugger,” Sniper keens.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, the quickest thing I've ever written ever. :D Hope you liked it! Maybe a sequel if I feel like it, but feedback would be appreciated!


End file.
